


Eagle Feathers

by DebraHicks



Category: Quantum Leap, War of the Worlds (TV 1988)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: To fix what went wrong, Sam Beckett leaps into a tense situation between the Blackwood group and the aliens.  But with so many dying, who is he there to save?First appeared in the zine "Play It Again #1."  5/1990
Kudos: 4





	Eagle Feathers

It's always a pleasant surprise leaping into an empty room. It gives you a chance to check out, your surroundings as well as your new identity. As I went to stand I made my first discovery, I was in a motorized wheelchair. A leather strap ran around my thighs, holding my legs in position since the chair was cut down with no arms. The clothes demanded attention after the chair. Judging by the colors of the tie-dyed tee shirt, whoever I was would have gotten along with Al.

The computer terminal attracted my attention next. It was maybe only nine or ten years older than the one I had used to program Project Quantum Leap. It was the same class, a Cray, what used to be called a super computer. Whoever owned it had resources. The prompt was flashing in one corner and a single line of blue print said "Chill man, I'm working." Whoever the programmer was, he had a sense of humor.

"Your name..."

I jumped.

"Al! I wish you'd give a person some warning before you do that."

Al just stared at me from the middle of the computer console. "How can I give you warning without coming into the room?"

"Al, get out of the computer," I said peevishly. It bothers me when he's only partially visible.

He moved and I was almost sorry he had as I viewed his latest sartorial splendor. There are some colors that Mother Nature wisely choose not to create, unfortunately, Al and his tailor had uncovered most of them.

"Your name is Norton Drake. You're a computer whiz currently working on something called the Blackwood Project." He paused, did a double take at the little hand unit. "Wow! Sam, you're working on stopping an alien invasion!"

It was my turn to do a double take. "Ziggy's blown a fuse, Al. There's never been a record of any kind of alien contact."

"Not officially," Al agreed. "Most of the records on the whole thing are still classified. But do you remember the depression of 1991-1993? The droughts, food shortages, water shortages?"

I gave him a dirty look. "No, I don't remember."

"Oh, sorry." He frowned. "It was bad. Nearly three thousand people died in just under three years. Fortunately, or not, I guess depending on your point of view, it was mostly confined to the west coast."

"What's that..."

"Ziggy says it was all caused by the aliens and this team stopped them." Al was gesturing with his cigar, a habit he had when excited.

This was a little hard to buy but I had rewritten my definition of impossible after the first leap.

"Okay. What do I do? Finish a program?"

Sticking the cigar back in his mouth, Al starting tapping furiously. I'm surprised he hasn't broken the unit yet.

"Ziggy's not sure," he admitted with a puzzled look.

That was unusual. "What can you tell me?"

"There are three others on the team, not counting the military unit assigned to it. The leader is astrophysicist Dr. Harrison..."

"Norton."

I spun the chair a bit awkwardly toward the set of elevator doors that had just opened. A tall, curly haired man with a dark beard strode across the room and slapped me on the shoulder. He was smiling widely, obviously pleased by something.

"Harrison Blackwood," Al finished, nodding toward the man.

"Harrison," I said, smiling back.

"Good news. General Wilson left a message for me to met him in town."

"That's great," I agreed cautiously.

"I haven't told Suzanne or Ironhorse where I'm going. I want to make sure it's not a false lead."

The back of my neck tingled; a sign I had learned very early to listen to. It usually meant trouble.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Harrison?"

"Don't worry!" He tried to sound confident but the smile wavered a little at the edges. "I'll be fine."

He gripped my shoulder briefly, then headed for the elevator. There was a tremendous clap of thunder and the overhead lights dimmed. The computer kept running. I wasn't surprised; a computer set up like this would have backup power sources on several levels.

Without turning, the doctor said, "I hope you get a clue on these storms." The doors closed behind him.

"Will he, Al?"

"Be okay?"

"Yeah."

Al shrugged.

I shook off the chill and rolled back to the terminal. "You said there were others."

"Yeah. Dr. Suzanne McCullough, microbiologist and psychologist. Hum, interesting combination." I could see his brown eyes lit up. "And a very nice looking lady. Reminds me of a girl..."

"Al." I chastised, trying not to smile.

"Oh, and her teenage daughter, Debi shares the house." He tapped the unit, frowned. "The aforementioned, currently missing General Wilson is her uncle. The final member of your little group is the government liaison and military leader, Lt. Col. Paul Ironhorse."

At that moment the small printer started rattling. I moved the chair, banging my knees in the process. Guiding one of these things was a lot trickier than it looked. At the same time as the printout started, the terminal cleared, coming back to a single blinking prompt.

"Why doesn't Ziggy have anything yet?" I wondered.

"It's all the old, top secret ratings and ancient red tape," Al complained. "Even Ziggy is having trouble."

On impulse, since I couldn't resist playing, I tapped a UNIX code on the keyboard, not expecting much. To my surprise the computer responded. "All right. Hey, Al, maybe I can figure it out before Ziggy can."

"With this antique?" Al asked in disbelief.

"Well, it's better than just sitting here," I countered.

With a shrug, he agreed, "Okay. I'll go see what I can do to speed things up."

He disappeared, still frowning. I tore the printout off the Okidata.

*****

The lights blinked twice while I was studying the printout. By another flash, I was beginning to understand what was going on -and it was beyond scary.

The elevator opened behind me and three people emerged. The first was a pretty blonde kid that may have just been thirteen. She smiled as she went by.

"Hi, Norton."

"Hi... uh, Debi."

She went to a work table and plugged in a soldering gun.

Someone patted my shoulder and I looked up into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. When Al had said Suzanne McCullough was lovely he hadn't been kidding. She had dark blonde, loose curls that set off her eyes. Right now there was worry and sadness lurking in the blue. I guessed it was for her uncle, or maybe it was for the world going to hell around her.

"Is there coffee on?" she asked.

"Uh, I don't know," I answered.

She smiled valiantly. "It must be a great program if you haven't paid any attention to the coffee."

She moved away leaving me alone with the last person on the team.

I haven't known many military men in my adventures. I don't count Al since I think he's the exception to every rule the military ever conceived of; how he made Admiral I'll never know. This man, Ironhorse, with his intense black eyes and bronze skin conjured up a term beyond soldier - warrior.

The control in his stance faded a little as he joined me at the terminal.

"Have you found out anything?" he asked in a rough deep voice.

For once it was a question I had an answer for. "I think so, uh, Colonel."

He started to lean over my right shoulder but was distracted when Suzanne handed him a cup of steaming coffee.

"Hang on, Colonel," I told him, watching the clock on the screen. "Five, four, three, two, one..."

"Zero," Ironhorse supplied.

Thunder. The lights dimmed.

"Exactly seventeen minutes," I mumbled. "Weather isn't that predictable."

Behind me Ironhorse and Suzanne began to discuss the recent lack of alien activity and the strange new disasters. I was only half listening, too fascinated by the statistics on the screen, the graph charting the storm around us.

I did hear Ironhorse's next question.

"Has anyone seen Harrison?"

I glanced hopefully at Suzanne. She wouldn't met his gaze but she did answer him.

"He's gone out," she said hesitantly.

"Where the hell's he gone?" There was cold anger in the voice now.

Brave lady that she was, she shrugged, which only fueled the colonel's temper.

"Don't you people ever learn!" He stabbed the desk next to me with his finger. "I have to know where everyone is at all times."

Before anyone could reply he whirled around and stalked out, fists clenched at his sides. The room was chillingly silent. I glanced again at Suzanne, she sighed and shrugged. Only Debi had the courage to break the silence.

"He's in a bad mood." Her mother glared at her and she added under her breath, "Everyone is."

"Maybe I'd better go talk to him," I suggested.

Two completely disbelieving looks almost dissuaded me from going. But gut instinct is what had guided me on every leap so far and now didn't seem the time to stop following it.

I rolled to the elevator, glanced at the lights, which indicated we were in the basement. I realized I had no idea where Ironhorse would be. I decided to start on the first floor and work my way up. The elevator opened and Al was standing in front of me, talking even before I could say anything.

"Ziggy says that you're here to keep Norton Drake alive," he explained bluntly. "Ziggy is still working on the details but within three hours Norton Drake dies, in this house. Sam, you have to get out of here."

"Three hours." I tried to sound calm. "Okay. Let's not panic."

"Why not?" Al demanded.

I smiled at him, touched by the care in his voice. Not for the first time I wished I remembered our friendship. It didn't really matter, we'd built a new one.

"Al, we still don't have enough information..."

"What more do you need, Sam?" Al spread his hands, cigar held tight in his teeth.

"Running away doesn't guarantee I can get to safety," I countered. "We know I could run into something just as bad."

There have been times that I have acted on absolutely nothing but a wing and a prayer. Actually, most times. This time I was sure there was more to this than just tucking tail and running.

"Al, let Ziggy work on it for another couple of hours."

"Sam..."

I rolled away, ignoring his outrage, which only outraged him further. To be fair, Al had every reason to be annoyed and worried. It was the one question neither of us had ever had the courage to ask Ziggy - what happened if I died here? I'm not sure even Ziggy could calculate the outcome of that. The time paradoxes alone would be staggering. And what happens to the person I'm replacing?

Rolling down the hall I passed a mirror, set at waist level, just high enough to check out Norton. He was a pleasant looking, surprisingly young black man, with laugh lines around his eyes. He was also bigger than I thought, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. Where he got the muscles was easy to guess. I turned away and spotted Ironhorse through an open door off the main room. I had the impression that the door wasn't usually left open. I tried to knock quietly but the edge of the chair banged the door first.

"Norton."

Ironhorse was leaning against the edge of a solid plain desk set at an angle to the massive window that dominated the room. He was staring out into the ominous, dark clouds, absently stroking a large feather. The anger was still there but cooler, toned down by something else.

"It's tough working with civilians, isn't it, Colonel?" I prompted.

A lopsided, slight smile curled the right side of his mouth, made his look younger. "I don't have trouble with civilians, Norton. Only with a certain crazy doctor."

I knew what the something else was. "You're worried about him."

He didn't deny it. A far away look colored his face. "There's something happening, something I don't like." Coming around pass me, he lay the feather on the desk, added drily, "Would it be too cliched to say..."

There was no explanation for the breeze that picked up the feather and dropped it lightly to the floor between us. Ironhorse visibly paled, staring. Then he sighed quietly.

"Norton," he asked very seriously. "Would you please hand that to me?"

The man's face was so controlled that for a moment I thought I had imagined his distress. I leaned over and picked up the feather, handing it to him gently. As I did he met my look for a moment. A maze of emotions filled the onyx eyes; regret most clearly, followed by resignation, sorrow and a hint of fear. He turned away quickly, put the feather up on one of the bookshelves that covered two walls. He didn't look down as he went by, just patted my arm.

"I'll be on the range. Send Harrison down when he gets in."

"Only if you promise not to shoot him." I tried to lighten the deadly mood.

He left in silence, the door open behind him. I rolled to the window, staring out at the unnaturally dark landscape.

"That was a very great honor, Sam," Al said solemnly from behind me.

I turned. "What?"

"Asking you to pick up the eagle feather." Al wasn't looking to Ziggy for this information. "A dropped eagle feather is the sign of a fallen warrior. And only another warrior can retrieve it. He considers you an equal."

"Fallen warrior," I mumbled, understanding the haunted look. "He expects to die."

Al was silent, refused to met my look, a sign that he was avoiding something unpleasant.

"He is going to die, isn't he?"

He took a deep breath, nodded. "Ziggy's gotten a little deeper into it." He looked up, brown eyes shaded. "It's not pleasant."

Before he could start, a battered green van pulled up to the front door, visible just at the edge of the window. Blackwood and another man, wearing what looked like Army castoffs, ran in.

"Who is that?" I asked, surprised to find that Al had moved right next to me.

"That's John Kincaid," he said after consulting the hand unit. "Ex-Delta Squad. He'll take over after Ironhorse... dies."

"How does he die?"

"Kincaid just rescued Blackwood from the aliens. When Ironhorse fails to contact General Wilson he takes command and goes in with his squad to check it out." He tipped his head sideways staring at the small screen. "The squad gets wiped out, Ironhorse gets captured. Somehow the aliens make some... some kind of copy of him. The copy comes back here, kills Norton..."

He stopped, looking upset over the readouts on the screen. "It takes Debi hostage. Ziggy isn't sure how but the real Ironhorse gets back here, somehow knows that he and the copy are connected and..."

"And what?" I demanded.

"Shoots himself," Al finished softly. "To kill the copy."

The lights dimmed.

"Al, is Ziggy sure I'm not here to save Ironhorse?"

"Sam, the copy kills you, Norton first. If you're going to save Ironhorse you have to stay alive to do it."

"Then I'll have to stay in the house to do it," I said reasonably.

"Uh, yeah," he agreed, looking thoughtful.

"What, Al?"

"Maybe we're making this more complicated then we have to, Sam. All you have to do is stop Ironhorse from going on that recon." He counted off on his fingers. "He won't get captured, there won't be a copy and both Norton and Ironhorse can continue their fight."

The plan sounded simple enough, until I thought of the quick impression I had of Lt. Col. Ironhorse. He was not a man easily persuaded once he had an idea.

"It's worth a try." I nodded, not believing it would work for a minute.

Al tapped the unit and the blue glowing door appeared behind him. He started to step through, stopped.

"Oh, by the way, the wheelchair is voice activated. It's named Gertrude." A wistful, wishful smile covered his face. "I knew a Gertrude once." He waved his hands down his hair. "She had long blond hair. And..."

He moved his hands forward. "... the biggest wa..."

"Al!"

With a smile he disappeared through the door.

"Okay. Uh... Gertrude... Forward." The chair was absolutely still. "Turn right."

It dawned on me that a machine would pick up my voice, not Norton's. I had thought my arms would get a break. With a sigh, I rolled back to the elevator.

Ironhorse was a man who believed in the old adage - the best defense is a strong offense. I came in just in time to hear him say.

"This one's for me and my men, Kincaid."

"Colonel..." I started.

"Paul," Blackwood cut me off. "Now is not the time to go off on a one man crusade against the aliens."

Ironhorse turned, fists tight, shoulders back and stiff. From the way Harrison straightened, crossing his arms in front of him, I knew this was an argument these two had been through before. There was an abundance of stubbornness visible in both stances. I silently cheered Blackwood on.

"Blackwood..." Ironhorse launched in, leaning forward.

Then something happened. Ironhorse met the doctor's concerned bright blue eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped back. "Harrison," he said softly. "I have to do this alone."

The chance in attitude obviously surprised Harrison, caused him to stare in silence for a moment. He must have seen something in the troubled black eyes.

"Paul..." he started helplessly.

The colonel gripped the bigger man's shoulder briefly, a soft smile touching the right side of his mouth. "I'll be back, Harrison." He turned to leave but I was still in the way.

"Let him go, Norton," Harrison said quietly.

Reluctantly, I moved. The colonel gave me a single quick nod, then was gone. Harrison put a large hand on my shoulder.

"Why did you let him go?" I questioned harshly.

Pain flickered across the fair, drawn features. "We couldn't have stopped him. Better that he go knowing we're with him than out of anger."

Kincaid said something, distracting Blackwood. I went after Ironhorse, passing a troubled looking Debi.

I checked his office first but it was empty. Not wanting to miss him by chasing around the massive house, I went to the front door and waited. The Army knows how to move fast, within ten minutes Ironhorse marched toward the door. He had changed from jeans and blue shirt into drab green fatigues, raven hair tucked under a red beret. A lethal looking machine pistol was over one shoulder, a standard automatic was on his opposite hip, and a long, wicked knife on his thigh completed the arsenal. He looked very competent, very deadly.

He looked at me, features hard and cold, daring me to say something. I took a deep breath, not about to be put off.

"Colonel..."

"Norton." His voice matched his face. "I don't have time."

He tried to get passed, but I used the chair to block him. "Colonel, you said you didn't like what you were feeling. Well, neither do I, especially about this mission you're taking off on."

"Norton, I know you're worried." He paused, searching for words. "We can't fight without intelligence. I have to know what's going on out there. I can't hide here."

"And maybe you're feeling guilty about the aliens almost getting Harrison," I countered ruthlessly.

It hit home; he flinched.

His voice was hard as steel, teeth clenched. "My job is to protect this team, Mr. Drake. The only way I can do that is by going out there, locating the enemy and stopping him."

Harrison had been right. There was no way to stop him from going and sending him out mad wouldn't help. I sighed. "Colonel, it's just..."

The anger vanished into sad acceptance. But he smiled briefly, slapped my shoulder. "I know it's tough, sometimes, Norton."

I admired the fact that he didn't say it would be okay or not to worry.

"Take care, Paul." I tried to sound optimistic, like I didn't know what was going to happen.

He started by, stopped with his hand on the brass door handle. Without turning he reached behind his neck and pulled something over his head. He turned, held it out to me, a small leather bag on a leather thong. I knew what it was, a medicine bag.

"If..." he refused to met my eyes. "Give this to Harrison."

Before I could say anything he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him. My first plan had gone over like the preverbal lead balloon. I gripped the bag tightly.

Al coughed in warning behind me.

"Al, run a couple of scenarios for me; one with just Norton surviving and one with both."

"I already did, Sam. With Norton's help the team can get rid of the aliens in twenty six months instead of forty eight." Reluctantly he continued, "If Ironhorse were to survive they could get rid of the aliens in twenty months, saving, Ziggy estimates, fifteen hundred lives."

That surprised me. I hadn't realized how bad it had been. "So, if I save Ironhorse..."

Al frowned sadly. He may hate to be wrong but he realized the consequences that being right held this time. "According to Ziggy, there is no way to save Ironhorse once he's been captured."

"Why not? All we have to do is stop him for shooting himself."

"And the only way to do that is kill the copy," Al prompted. I nodded; Al shook his head.

"Killing the copy will kill Ironhorse."

That stopped me, I took a short breath. "Is Ziggy sure?"

Al studied the screen. "94.7% sure."

"Is that all?"

"Sam..."

"Al! Ziggy's given us better odds on other leaps and been wrong. And I think maybe he's wrong now."

"Based on what?" Al demanded.

"A feeling!" I defended. "The same thing I've always gone by."

Rolling away from Al I moved into the living room. The final embers of a fire were still glowing. I had an idea. Al wouldn't like it, I wasn't so sure I did.

"Norton." Harrison called from the entrance hall.

He was standing just in front of Kincaid, checking the ammo in a large automatic weapon. I stared at him. He read something into my gaze that I hadn't intended.

"I know," he said ruefully. "I never thought I would either. But we're going after Ironhorse."

"He's a pacifist," Al explained quietly. "Hates guns. But Ironhorse forced him to learn how to use one."

Once I could have claimed to be a pacifist. Until the first leap where I was forced to kill someone to save someone. Of everything that has happened to me on my journey, that was one of the hardest lessons to learn -that sometimes to protect what you love, what matters in life, you have to set aside your morals to do the right thing. And it never gets easy.

It was a hard lesson, one that I could see by his eyes, Blackwood had just accepted.

"You do what you have to, Harrison," I said quietly. It wasn't very originally, but he nodded, tried to smile.

Kincaid was looking impatient, tapped Blackwood's arm. As the doctor started out he added, quietly, "Take care of Suzanne and Debi."

"I will," I promised.

With almost everyone gone the place took on the feel of a funeral home.

"Sam, you have got to get out of here," Al urged again.

"I've got an idea, Al."

"An idea?"

Al was trying to be patient. I could tell, he chews that cigar even more when he's trying to be patient. I was trying to be calm and reassuring.

"It's simple. I get Debi and Suzanne out of the house. You zero in on the copy, track it back here and keep me informed of it's location. All I have to do is keep away until Blackwood or Kincaid get back and take it out."

Al's frown had been growing steadily as I outlined my plan. "But that's not..."

"Al, I'm not Norton." To emphasize my point I unbuckled the leather strap around my thighs and stood up, stretched. It felt wonderful. "I can run if necessary."

"What good will it do?" Al insisted. "Even if you manage not to get killed, killing the copy won't save..."

"Isn't it worth the gamble, Al? Fifteen hundred people?"

That stopped him. He knew that Ziggy wasn't infallible and his basic humanity won out over his fear for me. When he sighed, I knew I had him.

"Okay, Sam, we'll give it a try. Just, for goodness sake, be careful." He glanced at the unit. "Ziggy does have one other suggestion. The data Norton's collected could help improve their odds."

"Okay, there's a set of backup copies on diskette in the computer room," I agreed quickly. "You get on the copy while I get Debi and Suzanne out of here."

"Ironhorse left a full unit of his squad on duty around the house," Al informed me. "And several more in the carriage house."

"Good idea." The sense of impending doom was replaced a sense of urgency.

*****

"I don't understand, Norton," Suzanne questioned. "What is going on? Have you heard from Harrison? Ironhorse?"

"There's no time to explain right now, Suzanne. You two have to get to the carriage house; Omega is still on duty there."

I reached for Suzanne's hand, trying not to panic her but putting as much command in my voice as I could. "Don't come back until one of us comes for you."

She jerked out of my hand, voice just as firm as mine. "We're not going without you, Norton."

"You have to," I said calmly. "I have to monitor the computer, keep track of Kincaid and Harrison."

"What about the colonel?" Debi asked in a frightened tone.

"Don't worry, honey, everyone will be fine." I assured her, trying to sound confident.

"Norton..."

I gave up on stern and tried open pleading. "Suzanne, please for everyone's sake, especially Debi's, get out of here, now!"

She took my hands, concern very clear in her crystal blue eyes. "Norton..."

"Go, please."

After a moment she moved her hands to Debi's shoulders, urged her through the door. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I was the only one to be worried about.

I'm not going to pretend I wasn't worried. But I had an addition to the plan that I hadn't told Al about. My arms were beginning to ache as I rolled toward Ironhorse's office.

Under normal circumstances getting into the colonel's weapons cabinet would have been difficult. But I figured since the house was going up in smoke soon anyway, I didn't have to be subtle. I used the telephone to break the glass. I was after two items; a laser sighted, small caliber automatic was one obvious answer. The other took a little longer to find.

Rolling out, I passed through Al who appeared directly in front of me. "Sam, get out of here!"

"What?"

Al was agitated, waving the cigar fanatically. "Every time I try to connect with the copy I end up with Ironhorse, the real Ironhorse. Their brain waves are too similar."

"Where is the real one?"

"With Harrison and Kincaid, on their way here." He started toward the door, gesturing me to follow. "The copy is ahead of them, on it's way here."

"Wait, Al," I insisted. "The plan is ..."

"Sam," Al's voice was filled with quiet sympathy. "Give it up, please. I've seen Ironhorse, there's nothing you can do."

The sorrow and helplessness in his eyes cut through me. Beyond anything he could have said, that convinced me how hopeless it was.

"all right, Al, I'll go." I rolled toward the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Al demanded, following as the elevator closed, pointing through the door. "Out is that way!"

"I may not be able to save Ironhorse but I can save the diskettes with Norton's work."

I undid the thigh strap as the elevator slid to a stop; it seemed silly to stay in the chair with no one in the house. The doors open before I could get up - Colonel Ironhorse was standing opposite me.

"Uh, oh," Al whispered.

I would have put it a little stronger.

"Norton," the deep familiar voice said levelly.

Somehow, despite the shaking, I managed to roll forward.

"Where are you going?" Al yelled. "Sam, that's not Ironhorse!"

I knew that. Just the way he'd said the name had been wrong. More than that were the black eyes; they were dull, flat, unemotional.

"Colonel?" I slid closer, my eyes flicked to the diskette tray. "What's happening?"

The man, if such a term applies, smiled, shaking his head. "Kincaid. He must have been dreaming."

Behind his back I spotted the bomb, set but unarmed. I ignored it, smiled back. "Good. Maybe we can get some work done now." I picked up the tray, sat it in my lap. "Which means I'd better get these upstairs."

It took every bit of courage I had to turn that chair around. Al was holding his breath. I was holding my breath. The elevator doors opened smoothly. With my back to the lab, I reached over and hit the up button. I considered breathing again.

"Sam!"

The gunshot drowned out Al's yell. A sledge hammer slammed the center of my back, knocking me forward out of the chair. Through the ringing in my ears I heard the doors snap shut; another bullet rang against the metal. I was face down on the floor, unable to breath, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. God, it hurt.

"Sam!" Al was on his knees next to me. "No..."

He kept trying to touch me. It would have been funny if it hadn't been for the tears starting to flood his eyes.

"Al," I whispered, unable to get enough air to say anymore.

"Lie still, Sam," he said hoarsely.

The spots were clearing and I managed a single shallow breath. "Ouch..."

"Sam, damnit..."

I rolled over, coughing. Al kept pleading for me to lay still. With a bit more effort I pushed up and leaned against one of the cold metal walls. It was getting easier to breath.

Al was staring at me in complete confusion. "Sam?"

To save what little air I was getting I answered by tugging up the edge of the bright, tie-dyed tee shirt. The thick padding of the bullet proof vest I had taken along with the gun, was clearly visible.

Al sat down with a groan. "Thank God. Are you nuts, Sam? What if he... it, had gone for a head shot?"

Slowly, stripping out of the shirt, I said, in between gasps, "Had to... gamble."

I undid the velcro straps, tossed the vest in a corner and slipped back on the shirt. The elevator slid to a halt, I stretched with a groan and hit the stop button, kept the door closed.

"We need to know.... what's going on, Al."

Al was still staring at me, eyes suspiciously bright. After a minute he nodded, cleared his throat and drug an orange shelve across his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded, then smiled. "I told you so."

"What?"

"If I were... only here to save Norton," I used the wall as support to stand. "I would have leaped by now."

"And what makes you think you're safe?" Al snapped sarcastically. "This whole house is wired to blow sky high and there is an armed puesdo-Ironhorse roaming around loose!"

"I need to know what's going on, Al," I repeated.

"Okay! I'll be right back." He winked out.

I stepped toward the chair - and went down on one knee. The bullet had hit right next to my spine and despite the Kevlar, it had knocked my nervous system for a loop. Gripping the rail, I pulled myself back to my feet. Very slowly, I stretched the screaming muscles.

When Al reappeared, I knew the plan had gone from bad to worse. He was frowning, shaking his head.

"The copy has Debi."

"How the hell did that happen?" I demanded, staggering toward Gertrude.

Al threw his hands up. "I don't know! But if you don't get out there everything from here on is going to happen just like Ziggy says it did!"

I leaned over Gertrude, reached into the small side pocket and pulled out the pistol. "The copy isn't the only one armed."

I started to straightened, and had to grab the rail again as the room spun around me. This was not planned. It was going to slow me down seriously.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"You're going to have to guide me in, Al." I hit the button for the first floor.

"Right." He punched in something to Ziggy. "Kincaid, Harrison and Suzanne are coming up the stairs; the copy and Debi are heading... No. Too late. Everyone is in the den." His eyes widened. "The real Ironhorse is in the hall outside the room."

The doors opened and I leaned cautiously out. Voices carried from down the hall. The only person visible was Ironhorse.

He looked dead already! He was pale beyond belief, covered with sweat, dark circles under pain filled eyes. With one hand he was holding himself up against the door frame, the other was hidden behind the wall, holding a gun. His hand was shaking so hard it was no surprise he didn't try to take a shot at the copy.

I limped slowly toward him.

Al stepped through the wall between us. "The copy is about fifteen feet directly in front of the door. The slime has his arm around Debi's throat but his head and right shoulder are clear."

I couldn't make out the words from inside the room but Ironhorse's words were clear as brittle glass.

"No, not the same..."

His voice was soft, tired.

"... but linked... linked."

The distance was closing, I leaned on the wall, let it hold me up and forced my legs to move faster. Ironhorse was too involved in the drama in front of him to notice me. He leaned further in, grip shifting.

I went belly down on the carpet.

"It's been nice working with you," he said raggedly.

"No!" I screamed.

Time and motion slowed. Ironhorse brought his gun around, let go of the wall. I rolled into the doorway, brought my weapon up, the red dot of the laser swung across the room, briefly touched the four humans, came to rest on the copy's forehead. I caressed the trigger. The shot sounded.

The copy was thrown backwards - so was Ironhorse. As I watched in horror he hit the opposite wall, then sank slowly to the floor.

Suzanne, hand over Debi's eyes rushed by me. I started to crawl toward the downed warrior. Harrison sprinted by me, knelt next to Ironhorse. A calloused hand grabbed me by one wrist, jerked me up and over a strong shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"The diskettes," I yelled. "In the elevator."

Kincaid ignored me, started out. "Harrison! "Now!"

I raised my head off his back. Harrison was behind us, carrying Ironhorse in his arms like a child. The body was frightening still. Kincaid started running, each bounce sending pain along my back, pounding the air out of my lungs all over again. I let my muscles go limp, trying to ride it out. The cold hit us as we reached the relative safety of the front lawn.

A tremendous explosion ripped the air. I glanced up in time to see the walls of the manor buckle out. The blast caught Harrison first, he went down, twisting so that he landed under Ironhorse. Then it sent Kincaid sprawling. My back slammed into the ground, and darkness threatening. I lay there trying to stay awake.

Gradually the world steadied and I shifted around, stretching out on my stomach, which eased the pain. I watched Harrison ease out from under Ironhorse, pull him up into his lap and with a shaky hand feel for a pulse along the pale throat.

Suzanne and Debi rushed over, stopping a few feet from the tragic scene, afraid of what getting closer would tell them.

"Nooo..."

The heart rending denial was from Harrison.

"Harrison?" Kincaid questioned.

He didn't answer. He lay the body down, tipped Ironhorse's head back and forced air into the empty lungs. Three deep breaths. Nothing. Shifting, Harrison pressed large hands on the colonel's chest, pumping blood through the still heart. Three breaths, three presses. Stillness.

Suzanne wrapped her arms around Debi, pushed the small blonde head against her shoulder. Kincaid put his arms around both of them, waiting. More breaths.

"No, Paul," Harrison pleaded, panting now. "Please..."

Al sat down next to me. When I looked over at him he only shook his head. It could have meant that he didn't know the outcome or it could have meant...

I had watched one old warrior die. It had hurt more than I would have thought possible. But beyond the pain there had been a sense of time, place and of a rightness about it. There was none of that here. It was wrong.

Since that first leap I've talked to God a lot, asking for guidance and help. But I've never prayed for anyone as hard as I did now for the dark-haired man under Blackwood's desperate hands.

"Please, God," I whispered softly. "He's a good man. They need him. The world needs him."

Tears appeared on Harrison's cheeks. "Paul..."

Minutes went by, the ice growing in my stomach as Harrison kept up his steady moves. Using my elbows, I moved closer, drawn by the man's pain. Something in my shirt snagged in the grass.

"Harrison," Kincaid pleaded gently. "Let him go."

"No!" Harrison gasped. But he was growing short of breath and the body was still unmoving.

I dug into my pocket, pulled out the medicine bag. Reaching for Ironhorse's hand, I pressed the bag into his palm, wrapped both my hands around the cold, limp one.

"Please, God," I was praying out loud now, no one seemed to notice. "You didn't leave me here to watch him die, I know that."

The word die broke Harrison. With a final sob he stopped, let his head fall onto the muscled chest.

"Paul...." His quiet crying filled the cold twilight.

The fingers in my hand twitched.

"Harrison!" I yelled.

Ironhorse gasped, began to cough. Harrison let out a strangled cry of sheer joy that was echoed by Suzanne and Debi. The bigger man pulled Ironhorse off the damp ground and into his arms, holding him against his chest to help the spasm. The attack passed; Ironhorse began to take deep, unsteady breaths. Harrison patted one pale cheek.

"Paul? Come on, pal."

The breathing evened out slowly. The ebony eyes slitted open, sparkling in the fire from the ruined house. Ironhorse looked confused, glanced up at Harrison.

Harrison was smiling like a kid at Christmas, though there were still tears running down his cheeks. "We're all okay," he answered the unspoken question.

He gave into his joy and pulled Ironhorse into a hard hug, hands tangled in the black hair, rocking and laughing. Suzanne and Debi were also crying and hugging. After a second they turned to include Kincaid in their circle.

"Sam! You did it!" Al exclaimed unnecessarily, stabbing the air with that damn cigar. "Ironhorse lives and even without the diskettes, the team is able to stop the aliens in twenty months!"

I wasn't listening. I was smiling as Harrison eased Ironhorse down. A flush colored his high, pale cheekbones. Harrison laughed even harder.

Ironhorse's weary, pain free gaze shifted to me. He slipped his hand out of mine, raised it high enough to see the dark leather bag.

"I thought you might need it back," I explained, smiling around tears that I hadn't noticed.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.

A soft smile lifting the right side of his mouth was the last thing I saw before everything went bright.


End file.
